


13 Quirks Why

by OneBlueNotebook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, HP: EWE, Home, Humor, M/M, Romance, Trust, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneBlueNotebook/pseuds/OneBlueNotebook
Summary: The 13 quirks of Draco Malfoy and how Harry loves each of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is not a morning person. And he makes sure that people (read, Harry, specifically) know about it.

In the mornings, Draco hugs the nearest warm and soft object like an octopus.  
  
The object could be Harry, awake and smiling indulgently at Draco's sleeping (and occasionally drooling) face. It could be a body pillow. Could be the blankets. Could be Flintstone, their large, shaggy retriever. Draco didn't much care.  
  
The hugging would go on until he woke up, properly, which would always invariably be beyond the period of Harry's normal morning routine.  
  
So Harry had to devise new tricks (by which he extricated himself from a sleeping draco's arms and substituted a pillow in place) that kept Draco safely under the covers and asleep till his proper wake up time.  
  
Otherwise, Merlin save the people who came across the path of a sleep deprived Draco Malfoy.  
  
Once, on a particularly bad day, Harry was called out of his office by an almost tearful Casey, Draco's subordinate at DMLE, and asked to handle “that abysmally rude Mr Malfoy” or she would consider shifting to another investigator and then who'd help Draco to organise his case files by color?  
  
That was a grievous concern. Harry immediately had to rush off to the rescue.  
  
No one knew what went on beyond the closed doors of Draco's office for twenty minutes, but after that, Casey noticed that Draco was in a much more civil, even good mood. At the end of the day, she even received a sincere, even if awkward apology from Draco and a peace offering of five Bertie Botts beans and a promise to “attempt to keep my temper on check”, and out of politeness, she chose to ignore the muttered, “Merlin, what would I do without Harry.”  
  
Casey's respect for Mr Potter grew tenfold.  
  


 

 

  
While on cases, Draco Malfoy, the sleep deprived, was an entirely different picture.  
He had the habit of turning into an insomniac,  and Harry had to forcefully drag him to bed and get him some much needed sleep.  
  
There had been some memorable occasions, when Draco had fallen asleep in his office, after solving a difficult case that had been drawn out for far too long and after work, Harry had to double back from home and half carry a sleeping Draco to the floo.  
  
In those moments, Draco, in a semi conscious state, would blink open his eyes, recognise Harry, then mutter a sleepy “Harry, I did it! ” and promptly go limp with sleep again.  
  
And Harry's heart would overflow with love for the sleeping man in his arms and his grip around Draco would get just a little tighter, with Harry silently promising himself to guard the unconditional trust that Draco had chosen to put in him, with all his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco holds his cup by the bottom, sometimes rests it loosely on the palm of his hand, and proceeds to drink from it like that.

When no one's looking, or he's alone, or at home, Draco has the habit of holding his cup at the bottom, sometimes resting the whole thing on his loosely curled palm.  
  
When they're at a friend's house or in some official ministry business together, or at a public eatery, Harry notices draco's furtive attempts (and subsequent conscious checks) to hold the cup in his favoured way.  
  
And that's something Harry finds endearingly hilarious. Draco notices that, even through Harry's attempts to hide his smile, and is rewarded with snarky comments in a low voice, through clenched teeth, “Enjoying the spectacle Potter? ” and Harry laughs some more.  
  
Once Harry had asked him the reason for the strange preference. Draco replied absentmindedly, “It keeps my hand  _warm,_ Harry. Why else? ”  
  
And Harry couldn't argue with that, it was a surprisingly valid reason.

 

  
So, of course, Harry took it upon himself to find the best possible cups that were suited for the purpose of holding by using ones curled palms.  
  
And each time he found a particularly good one, with a broad enough base that would snugly fit Draco's hands, he would carefully watch Draco's reaction.  
  
And each time, he was rewarded with a small little smile that slowly spread across Draco's face, the brilliance of which would light up the whole of Harry's day. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a love for calligraphying quotes he loves, with permanent ink, on random surfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Big thanks to DoseCherry, for your inputs and comments on this chapter :)

Draco loved calligraphy. It was one of his secret hobbies as a child.

  
His school notebooks and stray parchments inside school books, as Harry discovered later, were filled with doodled, calligraphed words. Sometimes entire paragraphs were written. And sometimes, (embarrassingly for both of them) he'd find mean comments, addressed to him, in Draco's angry scrawl. Harry never failed to tease him about it.  
  
He also had an extensive knowledge of literature (which made Harry feel like _even more_ of a peasant in comparison) and loved to ink extracts from them, with permanent inking quills, onto random flat surfaces.

  
  
The wood panelling on Draco's bookshelf had :

_To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders._

  
The wall beside their bathroom mirror read :  
  
_Stop trying to leave_  
_And you will arrive_  
_Stop seeking_  
_and you will see._  
  
_Stop running away,_  
    _And you will be found_.  
 

  
Draco's work table had a corner, that showed:  
  
_It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning._

  
  
The wall in front of Harry's office desk had :  
  
_Only in silence the word,_  
_Only in dark the light,_  
_Only in dying life :_  
_Bright the hawk's flight_  
  _On an empty sky._

  
And so many others that Harry had lost count.

  
But the one that had shook Harry to his core, was the one Draco had inscribed on the inside of the lid of his old school trunk, in sixth year. It read:

  
_The caged bird sings with a fearful trill_  
_Of things unknown but longed for still._  
_And his tune is heard on the distant hill_ _  
_     _For the caged bird sings of freedom_.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco would sometimes lapse into an abstract, introspective mood, when he would recite lines from some of his favourite pieces and speculate, out loud, about the possible meanings and interpretations of them.  
  
Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly poetic, he'd make Harry sit down with him....or maybe in the warm summer afternoons, they'd lie down in the grass in the garden outside their home  and he'd recite his favorite verses or explain their meanings to him, in a soft, lilting voice. Harry would be lost in the soothing rise and fall of Draco's voice and remember the feeling of peace, long after he forgot the words whispered to him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco curses when he's euphoric or extremely happy with something.

 

Draco curses when he's extremely happy and high on the euphoria of solving a case.  
  
He'll launch into a loud, expressive monologue, with wild hand gestures and continuous expletives about how utterly _brilliant_ the _fucking case_ was and how this little _shite_ of a criminal is a _total genius_. 

He doesn't expect a reply from those in his presence and gets annoyed when people interrupt him in his little dance of joy, figuratively speaking.

 

  
If Harry is present, however, it's a different story.   
  
Then he'll enthusiastically drag Harry by the shoulders, hands, or torso, whichever is available nearest, and proceed to shake him vigorously in order to better hammer the brilliance of his solution, or the case, or both, into Harry, grey eyes shining like quicksilver and his speech at a ballistic speed, trying to keep up with his mind while he goes over the explanations.    
  
And Harry is swept along the mad excitement, Draco's evident joy infectious, and both of them go out into the big, bad world outside, with the assurance that they'll have each other's backs, no matter what. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a habit of suddenly asking Harry completely random questions, then forgetting the answers just as quickly.

Sometimes, when he's too immersed in work, Draco will stop talking for hours. 

Then he'll suddenly look up distractedly, spot a random object, frown at it, and ask Harry questions concerning the said object. 

Why do we have that large acorn kept on the mantelpiece ? 

Why is the salt shaker shaped like a dragon ? 

Who is that in the photo over there? 

Why are you wearing mismatched socks, Harry? 

 

And Harry looks up from his book, or stops stirring the soup, and patiently explains the context, while Draco listens, apparently attentive, his eyes a little unfocused, and Harry knows, that his mind is a thousand miles away, chasing after the case. 

 

Draco forgets the matter in about ten seconds and gets back to work, and Harry knows that the same question will be repeated again, sometime in the future.

 

Invariably, after about six months, Draco looks up from where he was submerged in parchments and stacks of case files and spots Harry sipping at his tea, beside the roaring fire in the hearth. 

 

Harry, why is there an _acorn on our mantelpiece?_!

 

Harry smiles at him fondly and repeats the explanation. He's lost count now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco dislikes yellow clothing.

 

Draco dislikes yellow clothing.   
  
“It makes me look like mummified mediaeval aristocracy ” was his opinion on the matter.   
  
He also disliked seeing bright shades of yellow on other people's apparels.   
  
So Harry, of course, grew to acquire articles and wearables in several alarming shades of the same.    
  
This annoyed Draco to no end.   
  
One evening, after coming back home, Draco spotted a suspicious looking package in the wardrobe. On opening, he found a brand new waterproof.

In an eye watering shade of yellow. 

 

  
When Harry returned home, the waterproof was thrust into his face first thing, in lieu of a 'welcome home'. 

  
Draco was levitating the yellow lump in front of him. Not even touching it. 

  
“Explain”   
  
Harry took one look at his expression and put a mental tally mark on a virtual scoreboard.   
Harry 1   
Draco 0

  
“It's a.... Waterproof?” Harry ventured, his expression innocent.   
  
“I can see that.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Why this particular colour?” Draco frowned at the affronted thing in distaste.   
  
Harry suppressed a laugh.   
  
“Because the nice old lady in the shop said it looked _nice_ on me!” Harry said with mild mock indignation.   
  
There had been no such nice old lady in the shop.   
  
“She said it _brings out the green of my eyes!"_  Harry sounded aghast.

  
This particular argument was well worn between them, and was used by Draco when he wanted Harry to wear a certain shade of clothing Harry didn't really like.

It was like the magic word, the final argument of all, in favour of Draco's reasoning. Harry knew Draco won't be able to counter that.   
  
“ _Merlin_! Old ladies nowadays... They used to be much better back in my childhood, gave especially good advice. It won't bring out your eyes Harry!! It'll make you look like _a large yellow tropical caterpillar_!!" Draco burst out, indignantly.   
  
They looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

 

 

  
Draco eventually charmed the abominable yellow into a more sobering dark blue, that Harry mentally had to admit, suited him much better...

 

 

  
The yellow waterproof was followed by a yellow tie (that Draco threw out the window), a pair of yellow gloves ( _These are women's gloves, Harry!?_ And Harry was mortified internally, he hadn't noticed that fact) and a pair of yellow Wellingtons (that Draco transfigured into two flower pots).

  
  
The flower pots were kept in Harry's office now. They have a lush growth of forget-me-nots planted by Draco himself  and look lovely in the summer sunlight filtering through the windows. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a thing for fancy quills.

 

Draco has a thing for fancy quills and is secretly immensely proud of his quill collection, which is displayed in a special place of honor in the living room.   
  
It deserves to be specially mentioned that Draco carved out the ornamental and delicate wooden display stand himself, with magic and a little help from Charlie Weasley.   
  
He's got a total of sixty seven quills.   
  
And Harry knows this exact number, because Draco has been going on and on about the “secret auction at Wilfred And Wottlings that's going to put three of the most rare, most exquisite phoenix feather quills that dates back to the 17th century on bid and Harry, can you belive, my collection will get to seventy then! _Seventy_!!”   
  
Harry had to remind him that there were a lot of chance factors in the eventual procurement of the said three quills.   
  
And Draco grouched, “Don't be such a spoilsport Harry. Show some support, will you? Tell me I'll get the quills.”   
  
Harry did.   
  
Draco smiled, satisfied.   
  
And for the rest of the evening, Draco made Harry help him clean the dust specks from the already too clean quill stand, fantasising out loud about the three phoenix feather quills and how brilliant they'd look in his collection.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco secretly loves Harry's messy hair, though always insults Harry about it.

 

Harry strongly suspects the fact that Draco might just secretly like his messy mop of hair.  
  
Harry has noticed, over the course of the years that they've been together, Draco developed the habit of absentmindedly touching his hair in some way.   
  
In the lazy winter evenings, sitting in front of the fire, just lounging about, and Draco would run his fingers through his hair, absorbed in the book he was reading.   
  
Deep into the night, in the fiery moments of passion, he'd grab onto Harry's hair and melt into his arms, while whispering sweet nothings in staccatoed breaths into the crook of Harry's neck.   
  
When leaving for work, he'd kiss Harry goodbye on the temple, and lovingly shuffle his already messy bed head.   
  
“You look like a _scarecrow_ , Potter, ” would be the last words out of his smirking mouth, and his mischievous eyes would glint brighter than the emerald of the floo before he disappeared.   
  
In the showers, he'd painstakingly wash Harry's hair himself, without magic, taking  much too longer than the perfunctory time Harry devotes (or does not) to his regular haircare routine.   
  
Before a public event, if he was around, Draco would dress Harry up, to the T, and carefully arrange his  hopeless strands.   
  
“You need to look _presentable_ , Harry,” he'd say, concentrating very hard on aligning an errant lock of hair in the exact way he wanted.

“I don't want people to think I'm raising a _peasant_.” he'd add, sly and devious. 

  
And Harry's breath would catch, with possibly the thousandth missed beat, that came with the realisation of how much he loved this, loved the man in front of him and he'd pull Draco close and rest their foreheads together, both of them stealing just one more moment alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco loves to watch the falling snow.

 

Draco loves to watch the falling snow.

He'll curl up on the couch and stare outside the window, for hours, when it's snowing, with cup of coffee or warm chocolate, silently watching the aimlessly drifting flakes. 

He'd always loved snowy winters, and said they reminded him of his early childhood, when he'd play outside, in the Manor Gardens, with his parents. They'd make snowmen and have snowball fights. His mother would make the loveliest ginger cookies and both of them would sit together, beside the roaring fire, with little Draco on her lap, and watch the snow fall silently outside. 

  
  
Draco didn't like to speak about his past life, or about his parents much. 

  
“They belong to a time I've left behind, Harry. And along with that, my childhood too.”   
  
But Harry knew, everytime he caught Draco silently staring at the snow outside, his eyes faraway and a little lost, that he was remembering them, the days that he'd never be able to go back to, but the memories which would never leave him.    
  


  
Sometimes Harry joins him, with a silent offering of a cup of hot chocolate and a platter of his own crudely made ginger  cookies, and Draco looks up at him, surprised.    
  
“Are the cookies too bad?” Harry asks, a bit hopeful, a bit apprehensive.    
  
And Draco averts his eyes, not before Harry has caught a glimpse of something unshed and shining.    
  
“They are surprisingly good. Thank you Harry.” he says, voice a little hoarse, and moves aside and lifts the throw blanket a little to let Harry snuggle in.    
  
They watch the falling snow outside, while the fire slowly burns down to embers, the whole night long.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a sweet tooth. But is on a strict self denial mission. Or so he thinks anyway.

 

Whenever they go to Diagon Alley, Draco spends an inordinately long time staring at the display of Sugarplums's Sweet Shop.   
  
But he never gets inside.   
  
He'll stare at the assortment of delectable sweets, for whatever amount of time he deems necessary on that particular day, then swiftly turn about, as if tearing himself away forcefully, and march straight away in the other direction. 

  
Harry follows him, occasionally with an armful of sweet packages and a goofy smile directed at the blond head resolutely stomping ahead before him.

 

  
Another weak spot of Draco was Zonko's.   
He'd allow himself an occasional visit and would ask Harry to restrain him, in case he “got a bit carried away with my fancy”   
  
“And your sugar high” Harry muttered to himself, smiling. 

 

  
  
Holidays were an especially trying time for Draco. It seemed that the whole world would set out to conspire against him and feed him all kinds of sweets.   
  
Every party they went to, every family gathering they attended, every gift basket from their colleagues at work, would invariably contain the forbidden fruits, attractively packed, with glittering ribbons and crackling paper.   
  
Draco had an acute love/hate relationship with them.   


  
When Harry had enquired about this peculiar self denial, Draco had replied, distressed, as if he'd repeated the same argument too many times already (no doubt to himself most of all), “I'll get fat, Harry! Do you know how _atrocious_ my nice suits would look on me then?”   
  
Harry had countered this riduridiculous vanity  by saying that, Draco would also be more cuddly then.   
  
Draco had raised an eyebrow at him and replied flatly, “In that case, you can go and cuddle Flintstone for all I care. From now on, I shall decline all further cuddling advances from you.”   
  
That had shut up Harry far too quickly than he  liked to admit.   


  
However, Harry had the advantage of knowing all the sweets that were Draco's absolute favourites.   
  
And he used that knowledge to his advantage as often as he could. Like, getting on Draco's good books after a silly fight. Or coaxing him to attend some boring ministry gala, or some other social occasion that Harry knows he'd get bored at, without Draco.   
  
A packet of any of Draco's favourite sweets and Harry's best puppy eyes, and Draco was won over.   
  
“Are you bribing me, Potter?” he'd ask, munching on the said sweet, sometimes with eyes closed in delight.   
  
Then he'd look up, and smile at Harry, and they'd both know he'd been caught.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco frequently steals Harry's invisibility cloak and plays pranks on Harry, or scares him shitless sometimes.

 

The first time Draco got to know about Harry's invisibility cloak, he'd been sitting in front of Harry's old school trunk, both of them going through Harry's old belongings, that had collected over the course of years.  
  
Draco had sat, dumbfounded, holding the cool, slippery, as if woven-out-of-air fabric in his hands and had been momentarily rendered speechless as he slowly internalised the immense magical history associated with it.

  
  
Then came the questions.  
  
You're the owner? The _real_ owner?  
  
Who else knows about this?  
  
Merlin, Potter! This is.... A _legendary_ thing, a national treasure! And you've kept it stowed away in.... _Your old school trunk_??! Are you _mental_?!

  
  
And then, the patent Draco Malfoy brand of  deviousness had reared its head.

  
  
He'd asked Harry, looking at him through slanted eyes, his tone carefully neutral, “Can I use it sometimes? ”  
  
Of course he had said yes.  
  
Harry still thinks that moment  was one of the bigger mistakes of his life. 

 

 

  
  
The first time Draco had used the cloak had been in one very boring, very loud and _very lengthy_ fund raisers of the ministry.

 

Draco had kept to the sidelines for most of the evening and had somehow managed to remain outside of Harry's field of  vision the whole time.

 

Harry was mentally preparing himself to give one really boring, long-ass speech (which Draco had written for him and made him memorise it, _Jesus_ ) to a bunch of old and withered and nastily rich ministry higher-ups and was just venturing towards the little podium and wondering _where the hell is Draco anyway when I need the moral support…_ When he suddenly felt someone grab him from behind and pull him behind a large pillar, just on the perimeter of the hall. A hand was clamped over his mouth and another had tightly snaked around his middle and Harry was just about to scream _Merlin what the fu-...._ when Draco's smooth voice sounded near his ear, “Enjoying the evening, Potter?”

 

And wasn't that mad…. The cloak was soon thrust over both of them and Draco proceeded to ravish him under it, pressing Harry up against the pillar, in that very public venue, where just about anyone could bump into them _at any fucking moment_ and Harry's blood boiled with the frenzy and his mind went dizzy with the thought of being caught like that.

 

Naturally, nobody could find Harry Potter for the rest of that evening.

 

While a long stream of apology letters from Harry had to follow, come morning, Harry was glad he didn't have to give that _darned_ speech anyway.

 

That first memorable incident of Draco using the cloak was followed by countless others, some mundane, others hilarious, and some others, just plain scary.

 

Draco devised elaborate pranks, all involving the use of the cloak, and Harry, stupid, simple Harry, fell for each them like a child.

 

“It's all for the revenge that's long overdue for the abominable shrieking shack fiasco of third year,” Draco would say, slowly healing Harry's wounded backside after he'd once fallen down, flat on his butt in reaction to Draco jumping out at him, suddenly materialising on the top of an apparently empty table while Harry was absently gathering laundry.

 

Later, in other times when both of them were under the cloak, Harry was always reminded of that first ministry gala incident.

“Well, at least I saved you from giving that damn speech. It was, or would've been, and I admit, really boring, long-ass speech.” Draco would concede.

**Author's Note:**

> Further updates coming up soon. As always, any feedback is welcome :)


End file.
